


Descent

by beetle



Category: Original Work
Genre: A Lenape Landing Story, Ashmedai - Freeform, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Attempted Sexual Assault, Best Friends, Demonic Possession, Even Lucifer has a Heart, Fallen Angel, Fallen Angel Lucifer, First Kiss, First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Lenape Landing - Freeform, M/M, Nephilim, Past Ashmedai/Lucifer, Princes Of Hell, Rescue, Sympathy for the Devil, The Fall - Freeform, angel - Freeform, damnation, the Devil - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 03:51:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5232887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beetle/pseuds/beetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men on a ledge: both have a confession . . . both take a fall. Written for the random song (per Chuck Wendig’s prompt) “Jumper,” by Third Eye Blind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Descent

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badskippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/gifts).



> Notes/Warnings: Implied past _attempted_ non-con. Liberties taken with Christian mythology.

 

* * *

 

“What’re we _doing_ out here, Dev?”

For once, his lanky, lonely figure was not swaying to music only he could hear, Dev stood stock-still on the ledge. Before and below him, the city of Lenape Landing sparkled and winked like colored gems set in the jeweler’s velvet of the night.

As I warily approached, I could almost hear the smile in Dev’s soft, perpetually amused tenor. “Join me, won’t you, Sunshine?”

Sighing and rolling my eyes—but still more worried than annoyed: after all this building was _very_ high, and even _Dev’s_ nine lives would eventually run out—I shoved my hands in the pockets of my thin, tenth-hand rayon windbreaker, and stopped just a few feet behind Dev. “Well? Come closer, oh, Sunny One. You know I don’t bite . . . much.”

“Uh, how ‘bout I don’t, and pretend I did.” Dev knew I hated heights. I didn’t even like being five-eleven, let alone _five stories high_ , and set on the edge of a cliff, to boot. . . .

And yet, I found myself shuffling a bit closer, for no reason more or less complicated than that Dev had asked it of me.

“His master’s voice,” Dev murmured, still amused and chuckling—this time, at my expense. I would’ve kidney-punched him if he weren’t so close to already doing a swan-dive into the night. “Come closer.”

“Fuck that! What’re we _doing_ up here, Dev?” I demanded again, shivering in the stiff breeze. I was grateful winter hadn’t yet set in. Those winds would’ve been enough to blow both our stupid asses off the roof and straight to Hell. “It’s fucking _brick_ out. Let’s head back to the ‘Landing, proper, and see if we can’t scare up some dinner.”

“Dinner. Pah! How plebian. Is food _all_ you think about, Sunshine?” Dev spread his arms as if he expected the wind to lift him off, like Mary Poppins. “Isn’t the _night_ beautiful?”

Scowling at him, even though he couldn’t see it, I horked and spat over the ledge, not bothering to listen for the splat, about a jillion feet below. “ _That_ for the night and its beauty, man. I’m fucking _cold_ and hungry. And it’s gonna take us at least two hours to walk back to the city. Why’d you drag us up here?”

Dev sighed—a dreamy, wistful sound—and turned to look at me. As usual, his dark eyes sparkled—brighter than the city below and the stars above. Cue my heart beating faster for reasons I chose, as usual, not to examine. Just as I chose not to examine the way my body grew almost alarmingly hot when Dev cupped my face in his long, cold hands and stared into my eyes, his own brimming with that boundless joy that drew everyone to him.

It had drawn _me_ , too. Well . . . once the excitement of saving Dev’s life wore off.

I remembered the night he and I met—or I should say, I stumbled across Dev getting the shit beat out of him. It’d been late—closer to morning than midnight—and I’d been fucking _wasted_ , staggering back to my shitty apartment alone. I’d passed the alleyway—it was so narrow it was really more of an ambitious gap—between _Molly’s Ice Cream Madness_ and _Pardee Realty Group_. From that gap, I’d nearly missed hearing a pained grunt that’d made me pause.

 _None of my business, I don’t wanna beg, buy, or borrow trouble,_ my instinct had warned even as I turned to look into the alley. What I’d seen made me gasp and swear, and both occupants of the narrow alley had turned to look at me.

The bigger guy—he’d reminded me of Lou Ferrigno, the way he’d looked in his heyday—had glared at me with eyes that’d almost seemed to . . . _glow_ _yellow_ in the dimly-lit space. He’d been dressed in dark, trendy clothes that’d seemed tailored to suit his rather massive frame. His dark hair had been artfully tousled and gelled every which way.

Pinned to the wall by the aforementioned guy had been another, much leaner guy. Taller than me, but wiry, rather than stocky. His clothes had looked as second-hand as mine, and his curly dark hair was messy in a way that was very much due to having it grasped as his head was pushed against the brick wall. His eyes, as dark as his hair, had met mine, both curious and forgiving.

 _I don’t expect you to help,_ they’d said, _but will you, I wonder, at least bear witness to my suffering?_

I hadn’t realized that I meant to do more than bear witness, until I was halfway down the alley toward them. The big guy had laughed . . . a gravelly, amused sound. Then he’d eased his grip on the smaller guy. But not before backhanding him then shoving him against the brick wall once more for good measure. The smaller guy had groaned, his eyelids fluttering dazedly as blood began to droozle from his nose in a thin trickle. His eyes, the color of an abyss, had met mine again. I’d felt as if I was being drawn into them, somehow. As if some long-closed part of me, like a metal door secured by an ancient, rusted lock, had just had the mechanism broken, so the door could open a crack and let out. . . .

“Beat it, _nephilim_ ,” the big guy had said in a resonant, _basso profundo_ monotone. “This is none of your conc—”

I’d lost the rest of what the bruiser was going to say as I felt a strange heat build within me—not slow, but _fast_. It felt like rage, almost, but far too focused, too impersonal. All I’d known was that I was suddenly barreling down the alley toward the bruiser, who looked momentarily confused, then let go of the smaller guy to face me, fists balled up and raised. He’d seemed annoyed but smug and—I’d noticed with a metric ton of distaste—he had a _rager_ of a hard-on.

 _Goddamn fucking rapist motherfucker,_ I’d thought, without knowing whether it was true or not, just that whatever this asshole had intended didn’t bode well for the smaller guy, who’d instantly slid to the ground when he’d been let go.

The big guy had swung at me, just as I hit him like a cannonball to the middle and tackled him backwards. I took the blow on the jaw—barely felt it—and we hit the ground with twin grunts.

I wasn’t _Mr. Universe_ , then.

I’m not Mr. Universe, _now_.

But I’m built enough to drive the wind out of someone, if I land on top of them. And while Lou Ferrigno’s double was stunned, I’d begun to wale on him, messing up that brutishly handsome face, landing blow after blow. I didn’t stop when he’d given up trying to defend himself and just went limp. I think I would’ve kept going till I was sure he was _dead_ —and maybe even after _that_ —if the smaller guy hadn’t touched my shoulder firmly, squeezing it.

“Stop,” a soft voice had said close to my ear.

And . . . I’d _stopped_ , drained all of a sudden. That strange, rage-like focus had flowed out of me, and that metal door in my mind swung shut once more on whatever other horrors lay behind it. But there was no lock, anymore, and that’d worried me for a moment. As much as I _could’ve_ been worried through the congealing sludge of my mind.

“C’mon . . . he’s down for the count,” that voice had soothed. I’d blinked down at the big guy. His face hadn’t been hamburger, but it was close. And my fists were covered in blood and scrapes. “Let’s get outta here before the cops come. Or before Ash sends back-up.”

I’d shaken my head—feeling groggy and inebriated again—and looked up at the smaller guy. His nose had still been bleeding a bit and his raven’s-shadow hair had hung in his face. But his _eyes_ had been clear and wondering. “Ash?” I asked?

The smaller guy had frowned a little, then shrugged almost irritably. “Ashmedai. An . . . old friend.”

I’d looked back at the big guy. “You need some new friends,” I said, and the smaller guy had laughed, reaching for my hand.

“Looks like I’ve got one. I’m . . . Dev, by the way.” He’d pulled on my arm till I stood unsteadily, then pulled some more until I followed him out of the alley with many a glance back at my handiwork.

“Don’t look back, kid,” he’d commanded. I’d obeyed him, and at the mouth of the alley, he’d taken my arm like we were just another pair of lovers, out for a late-night stroll. “Say, what’s your name?”

“Ray,” I’d replied, and his eyebrows shot up.

“You mean like a _ray_ _of sunshine?_ A light in dark places?” He’d smiled, a dazzling expression made more so for the contrast of the blood on his face. “How apt!”

I’d shrugged. “Not really. It’s just short for _Raymond_.”

Dev had batted his eyes facetiously and leaned in close. So close, I’d both hoped and feared he’d kiss me, despite his having nearly been raped and murdered, minutes before. “I think I’ll call you _Sunshine_.”

“Whatever,” I’d replied, shrugging again, and turning to walk away. Dev had soon caught up with me, and together we’d left the alley—and the rapist/murderer I’d thrashed—behind. I’d glanced at him as he took my arm again, like Blanche DuBois, and with his free hand wiped blood away from his already-swelling nose. He stared at it, wide-eyed and surprised. Avidly interested, as if he’d never bled before.

I don’t know if I’d even noticed, then, that he was beautiful. All I knew was that I was hungry, tired, and sore about the fists from pummeling the asshole in the alley behind us. I’d wanted to eat and veg, and all of a sudden, I knew I wouldn’t be doing either alone. Not when _I_ suddenly had become a _we_. Because it’d been beyond questioning that this helpless guy I’d rescued was coming home with me. For as long as he needed.

That thought had surprisingly not filled me with an ounce of trepidation.

And for the next three years or so, I’d ended up trailing after Dev like a smitten puppy. Though I’d told myself I was more of a guard-dog and protector, recently . . . reality had been playing hobble-de-hoy with my self-delusions.

“Do you love me, Ray?”

Derailed from my stroll down Memory Lane, I blinked and gaped. Partially at the question, but mostly because no one called me “Ray” anymore. Everyone we knew called me “Sunshine” or “Sunny,” because what Dev said had a way of sticking.

 _Now_ , I felt a sense of trepidation as I twisted my face just enough to hint that Dev should let go. But then, Dev never took hints. And, as usual, I was glad he didn’t. But I hid it well.

“I don’t believe in love,” I eventually lied, when neither of us had moved for almost two minutes. Dev sighed again and rolled his eyes.

“Liar. Do you at least _trust_ me, then?”

 _Implicitly_. Though I couldn’t tell him that. “I guess. As much as I trust anyone who isn’t me.”

Dev rolled his eyes again, but laughed. “You make it awful tough for a guy to get heartfelt up in this bitch.”

My eyebrows drifted toward my hairline. “Is _that_ what you’re doing . . . up here . . . in the middle of the freezing-ass night?” I joked nervously. Dev leaned closer, his hands sliding down and around my neck, his smile sliding into a thoughtful frown.

“Sunshine . . . _Raymond_ . . . I trust you, too.”

“That’s, uh . . . nice?”

“Isn’t it, though? And I don’t just trust you, I love you. More than I’ve loved anyone ever. Or at least in a few dozen millennia.”

I snorted. Hyperbole, on demand, that was Dev. “Yeah, well,” I began, starting to twist away from him a little. The amount of closeness and . . . _heartfeltness_ was making me uncomfortable. The feelings I’d been fighting so hard not to examine were starting to bubble up to the surface and demand acknowledgement.

And _action_.

“ _Dev_ ,” I started to say, my voice half-husky and half-creaky, and he leaned in and down till his forehead rested against mine.

“I want to show you something, Sunshine,” Dev breathed. His breath smelled, as always, sweet. Unlike my own breath, which probably still smelled like cheap, diner souvlaki from lunch ten hours ago. “Something . . . quite unutterably _rad_.”

“I see. And is this something also _tubular_ , as well?”

“Yes,” he chuckled, “that, too.” Then he was stepping back from me and taking my hand. “C’mon.”

“Uh, where to?” I asked with real wariness, inhaling so sharply the air whistled through my nose. I followed him the few steps to the edge of the ledge nonetheless. Immediately I began to shiver as I looked out at all the space and nothing between us and the ground. It was like all my nightmares come vividly true. Some people dreamed of flying, but I . . . I had always dreamed of falling and of how far there was to fall, literally and figuratively. _All_ my worst dreams were of falling. “Fuck me!”

“Gladly. But later,” Dev said seriously, squeezing my hand. “Glorious view, isn’t it?”

“So you keep saying. Look—you know I don’t like heights, Dev, no matter how great the view. So, how ‘bout we just—”

“What I have to show you isn’t that far away, relatively speaking. But I need you to try and trust me _more_ than you already do, or else it’ll seem a _lot_ worse than it actually _is_.” Dev’s soft voice was almost entirely stolen by the wind. When I looked over at him, he was watching me, all traces of amusement gone from his dark eyes. His shoulder-length hair was caught in the wind, whipping around his face and in his eyes like curtains, but he didn’t seem to notice. His gaze was steadier and more solemn than I’d ever seen it. “What I have to show you . . . well, it isn’t easy to swallow.”

“Can’t you just tell me what’s going on over dinner someplace _warm_ , Dev?” I all but pleaded, my teeth actually beginning to chatter a bit from cold and from fear. It was a _long_ way down and not getting any shorter.

Dev shook his head once. “This is more of a _show, don’t tell_ sort of thing. You’ll only believe it once you see it. _Feel_ it. But you have to trust that I have a good reason for bringing you up here. And for doing _this_.” Frowning once more, Dev brooded out at the empty air in front of us, then back at me. His eyes were intent . . . _intense_.

“Doing what?” I asked, just as he tugged on my hand hard, causing me to lose my balance. I teetered, too frightened to even _feel_ it as something other than utter stillness within my body and mind, and Dev then _pushed_ me, so that I tumbled forward, into the empty air, and down to my doom.

The world turned and turned about me, the dark ground growing closer, but I didn’t even scream. Or maybe I did, but just couldn’t hear it over the sudden rabbiting of my heart.

As I somersaulted through the air, I caught glimpses of the sky, the stars, the condemned treatment plant roof from which I’d fallen, and Dev—my friend, my murderer—stepping off the ledge, too. Only he didn’t fall . . . he hovered in the air like a gull on a zephyr.

“Trust me, Sunshine!” he called. “The first fall’s _always_ the worst!”

And when he said that, it was as if everything . . . _slowed down_. Time, I mean, and my fall.

So help me, I felt that rusty, metal door in my mind or heart begin to swing open and whatever was within, that scarifying, bruiser-killing _rage_ began to stir and coil. But then something _else_ behind the door and within me—golden, warm, and almost yearning—filled me like light . . . like _heat._ It began to shine _out_ , then _pour_ out into the rest of me and into the night. Into the _world_. Like water poured into a finite glass from a nonetheless never-ending pitcher, it began to overflow me, to spill out of me. I couldn’t contain it anymore, though I _had_ been, along with that horrible, terrifying rage, for _years_. Maybe since I was a child.

Maybe for my whole _life_.

And that warmth far eclipsed the rage that I’d always feared enough to keep locked away from even my conscious mind.

Miraculously, I stopped somersaulting, and as I continued to fall, I could see Dev standing far above me, outlined by the night. He seemed to be teetering on the very edge of an invisible perch, leaning a bit forward as if listening . . . or waiting for something.

Suddenly, more annoyed than frightened, I thought: _Well, what’re you waiting for? An engraved invitation?_ I opened my arms and reached up to him—but not _just_ with my arms . . . with that warmth that seemed to be filling me and spilling over. That warmth, that yearning, that trust—that _love_ —was all for Dev, and I knew that if this was going to be the end of me, I wanted that love and trust to live with Dev forever.

But I really _didn’t_ want it to be the end of me.

 _If you’re gonna save me somehow_ , _now would be an excellent time to do it, asshole!_

Then Dev was diving from his invisible perch, speeding toward me head first, like a falcon toward a field mouse. I yelped, and braced myself as best I could—

—only to gasp and grunt as I was caught around my waist, by something that halted my fall even as time sped up to its normal pace once more. I was pulled against a long, rangy body and held tight as my fall— _our fall_ —slowed to a near-stop.

When I dared to squint open my eyes, I was looking over a prominent shoulder up at the cliff from which I had plummeted . . . goggling at all the jagged rocks and straggly, scrubby vegetation.

“Shit!” I screamed, flailing and wriggling just as my feet touched the ground. Then the steel-strong arms around me let go and I crumpled into fetal position, shaking and weeping. “What the _FUCK?!_ _DEV_?!”

“No need to shout, Sunshine. I’m right here,” Dev’s voice said, and a moment later battered red Chucks entered my field of vision . . . followed by knobby, blue jean-covered knees. Then a gentle hand was smoothing my hair. “I’m right here.”

“You— _you_ —” I stuttered out, looking up just enough to see Dev’s familiar face. He was smiling a tired, but timeless smile. His slightly curling hair hung in his face, obscuring his eyes, though the way they glittered seemed as bright as the stars above us. And there seemed to be a . . . glow around him . . . a crimson radiance emanating from his _au lait_ complexion. But then I blinked and rubbed my eyes to clear my tear-trebled vision and the radiance was gone. It was just _Dev_ , kneeling over me, his eyes worried somewhere beneath the seemingly boundless joy that had always drawn me in. “Wh-what _are_ you, Dev?”

Dev’s smile turned wry. “I’m just _me_ , Sunshine. Just Dev.”

“Nuh-uh!” I wiped my face and uncurled from fetal position slowly, then sat up, bracing myself with my hands as I leaned away from Dev. He obligingly sat back on his heels, hands held slightly out, as if in supplication. He presented an innocuous figure. I knew, however, that was bullshit. “Nuh-uh, you can _fly_! The Dev I know _can’t fly_ —he isn’t Superman!”

“Maybe he _is_ , and you just didn’t know it,” Dev said softly, looking down at the ground between us, smiling a little. “I mean, have you ever seen the two of us in the same room at the same time?”

“Dev!”

“Okay, I’m _not_ Superman, of course. And I can’t _fly_ . . . not anymore. But I can _dive_ . . . and make a controlled descent.”

“ _A controlled_ —” I laughed manically, burying my face in my hands for a few moments. “Jesus, dude, what _are_ you?” I asked when I looked up again. Dev met my gaze once more, his mouth pursing as if he wouldn’t let himself say. I scowled. “ _Tell me_ , goddamnit!”

Dev closed his eyes for a moment, then clasped his hands and began to speak:

“I was called ‘Morning Star,’ ‘Light-Bearer,’ and ‘Son of the Dawn.’ And none was more beloved than I. Or so I thought.

“When the time came for the One Whom I loved to choose between me and another, that other was chosen. And though I was hurt, I went on as if I was still best beloved. Then another was chosen ahead of me a _second_ time. Though my love and loyalty were growing ragged and thin, my heart growing agonized, I held on to my illusions and tried ever harder to show my love and adoration, which is, to this day, unending.”

Dev paused, swallowing, appearing to fight the urge to not go on with his tale. Not that he really needed to. I had a really strong idea of where it was going, already. Of what Dev was trying to tell me. The only question was . . . did I believe him?

“There came a third time of choosing, and I wept. I begged. I _plead_ to at last be put first . . . but my pleas were ignored. Again, others were chosen ahead of me. And, as if that opened the wound that’d been festering within me since the first time I’d been passed over, I . . . sought to leave behind the presence of the One I had loved and Whom I would always love. But that was . . . impossible. So I stirred the pot of rebellion, seeking to overthrow the Tyrant Who ruled over all things, not least of which was my heart. I failed, of course.” Dev closed his eyes for a moment, but that didn’t stop blood-red tears from escaping his eyes to hang in his dark, shaggy lashes before running down his cheeks. “And for my presumption, disobedience, and disloyalty, I was cast out of my home—I, and those who’d felt as passed over as I did, and who had chosen to rebel with me. We were cast out from Paradise, and we Fell. Through icy space, till we hit atmosphere—so hot, it singed and burned our wings beyond usefulness or healing—we Fell . . . to the Earth. But the agony of that, of falling through cold and heat, the agony of losing our wings, was as _nothing_ to the agony of Falling out of Grace.”

And as Dev spoke, he’d slowly been changing, as if an illusion was falling away from him . . . a _seeming_. Fading away like wisps of smoke, were battered Chucks, raggedy jeans, threadbare sweater, and a beige windbreaker that wasn’t so different from my grey one. In their place was a breast-plate, gleaming a mellow gold in the dim, indifferent light of the distant stars, and a kilt and cape as crimson as heart’s blood, flirting back with the breeze. With its fluttering and shifting, I could see hints of the singed, skeletal remains of wings, with not a feather on them. . . .

 _This can’t be_ , I thought, nearly gibbering to myself with panicked disbelief. _This can’t be for real! There’s no such thing as gods and devils and—and all that bullshit!_

But then a quieter voice in the back of my brain added: _Just because you’ve never seen proof before now, doesn’t mean they_ don’t _exist. It just means that you haven’t_ seen proof _of their existence. And as you well know from Philosophy 101, deities are unfalsifiable beings. There’s no way to prove they don’t exist, and no way to prove they_ do _. . . until now. Although Dev is merely proof there are beings that_ resemble angels _from Judeo-Christian lore, not necessarily proof that the_ Christian deity _exists, as well. Furthermore—_

The voice would’ve gone on forever if I’d let it. Instead, I tuned out and focused on Dev. He looked regal, yet more despairing than I’d ever seen him. That faint, golden glow was back. And in his right hand was a crimson sword that looked far too heavy for a man—a _human_ man—to lift. In his left hand was a golden helm that matched the breast-plate, covered in ornate design and writing.

And his face—his face was the same: _au lait_ skin, Roman nose, high, prominent cheekbones, sensual mouth, wide, deep-set, dark eyes—but even more beautiful, somehow. _Perfect_. From the cleft of his chin to the tips of the curling, blood-red horns that now rose for at least nine inches from within the long thicket of his dark hair.

“And then?” I asked almost numbly, reaching out with faltering reluctance to brush the hair back out of his face—out of _the Devil’s_ face—as I’d always wanted to, but never _let_ myself do. “What happened next?”

Dev snorted, dropping his golden helm to bring his hand up to his cheek, where it caught mine and pressed it against his chilly skin. “Next?” A desperate, despairing laugh. “We were scattered across the Earth during the Fall. Left to wander among mankind—able to conceal our true natures, but do precious-little else. Most of our kind took mortal wives and those wives bore children. _Nephilim_ , those children were called. Stronger, faster, imbued with talents that mortal men couldn’t imagine, those children lived down throughout the ages, also concealing their true natures. Labeled succubus, incubus, cambion, and _witch_ by the ignorant.”

Dev looked down. For my part, I couldn’t stop caressing his face. His skin was so soft and smooth, but _cold_. In trying to warm it, I barely noticed that word again: _Nephilim_. But later, I’d recall it, to my lament. “But . . . but what of . . . _Hell_?”

“What of it?”

“Isn’t _that_ where the Fallen angels were sent? Not Earth?” I asked, confused. Dev sighed and gazed up at me.

“Have you ever heard the phrase: ‘Hell is other people’? Turns out that’s not far off, when the people one is among are the very people one committed a cardinal sin in rebellion against. And compared to the undiluted Presence of the One we love, the Earth, even with its . . . myriad and temporary delights, _is_ Hell for most of us. Myself, especially. Or it was, until. . . .”

“Until?” I prodded, when Dev didn’t say anything for nearly a minute, only stared into my eyes and leaned into the touch of my hand.

Then he smiled, and looked away, standing up and pulling me with him. He literally pulled me to my feet without my help. “Until about three years ago, when I met a man . . . an ordinary, _extraordinary_ man. He selflessly came to my rescue—not the first act of selflessness I’d ever witnessed since being banished to this Earth, but the first that was directed at _me_. He _saved_ me, that night, in a way I can’t explain even now.” Dev’s hand squeezed mine fervently and his hopeful eyes searched my own. “For I now know what it is to love for love’s sake, not because I expect something in return, whether that something is sex, or to be put forever first in someone’s heart.”

Momentarily speechless, I swallowed. It was, I finally realized, here: my big, _Say Anything_ -moment. Only I’d left my ghetto-blaster and Peter Gabriel cassette in my other trench-coat. “Yeah, but . . . if this guy who saved you _could_ _give_ those things to you—and, you know . . . _wanted_ to give those things to you . . . would you say _no_?” I asked timidly, unsure which surprised me more: me, _finally_ confessing my feelings for Dev, after a fashion—acting on a _need_ , for once in my repressed life, that didn’t involve being inebriated—or me plighting troth to the Devil.

I mean, I’d been raised in a pretty secular foster homes. All I knew about Christianity I’d learned from friends, popular culture, and a world religions class I’d taken in college. But I knew enough about the damn _Devil_ to know he was evil, absolute, right? The source of all human misery?

But then . . . I knew enough about _Dev_ to know he was . . . _wonderful_. All I’d ever wanted, wrapped in one ridiculously gorgeous package. Larger matters of philosophy and integrity aside . . . I wanted him. I _needed_ him. Whether he was the ultimate in wickedness, or just under-loved and misunderstood.

I _loved_ him.

And maybe that showed in my—frightened, panicked—eyes, because Dev looked startled for a few seconds, then dimpled at me. “Of _course,_ I wouldn’t say no, Sunshine. I’m not _stupid_. Prince of Darkness, here, not Prince of _Dumbness_.”

I snorted and leaned closer to Dev. He grinned and leaned closer to me.

“So,” I said, staring at his lips. “What happens now?”

“ _Weeeeeellll_.” The tip of Dev’s nose touched mine. “How about I take you back to town, take you to dinner, take you home, then just . . . y’know . . . _take you?_ ”

I swallowed again, and nodded eagerly.

“ _Rad_ ,” Dev breathed, his lips brushing mine feather-soft, before claiming them in a hard, demanding kiss which, though brief, left me breathless and moaning . . . following after him for more. Dev smirked, then picked up and pulled on his golden helm and sheathed his crimson sword. “Totally tubular.”

“Your . . . your pop-culture references aren’t just dated . . . they’re _carbon_ -dated.”

Chuckling, he wrapped his arms around my waist suddenly, pulling me against him. His armor was cold and solid against my chest.

“Hang on,” he said, and I obeyed without hesitation, wrapping my arms around his neck, my brow furrowing.

“Why?”

“I’m takin’ ya places, kid.”

“Oh, yeah? Where?”

“Second star to the right and straight on till morning.”

“Why are _all_ your pop-culture references so _ancient_ , dude?”

“Your _face_ is ancient, ass-butt.” Dev laughed, and we lifted off the ground hard and _fast_. I clutched at him with my arms and legs, and tried not to shit my pants as the ground got farther and farther away.

“I thought you couldn’t fly!”

“I can’t. But I can _jump_. High and _far_.” His eyes twinkled and he smirked. Indeed, it seemed like we were shooting, somewhat diagonally, up into the sky. “I can land us in the outskirts of Lenape Landing. Right around where the houses stop having acreage. Maybe we can even catch the last bus back into town, proper.”

I snorted. “The _bus_ , huh? You keep treating me so fancy, I’ll grow accustomed to this lavish lifestyle.”

“I _want_ you to grow accustomed to a lavish lifestyle.” Dev’s hands splayed on my back. Even wearing the golden helm, I could see how dead-serious his face was. “I want to give you _everything_ you’ve ever needed, Sunshine. Everything you’ll ever _want_.”

“You, uh . . . kinda already have, Dev,” I replied, blushing. “You already _are_.”

As icy air rushed past us, Dev searched my eyes surprised and gaping. I smiled shyly and Dev leaned his helmed forehead against mine, closing his eyes. He was humming something that I finally recognized as _I Believe in a Thing Called Love_ , by The Darkness.

I rolled my eyes. “Carbon-dated pop-culture references, making me ride the bus, questionable taste in music . . . Jeez, for the Devil, you’re pretty lame.”

Dev burst out laughing again and this time, _I_ kissed _him_. He tasted cold and sweet, like ice cream. I couldn’t get enough— _of kissing him and claiming_ him—and wondered why I’d waited so long to do it, when I’d wanted to from the night we met.

Then I wasn’t wondering much of anything as we kissed in earnest. That kiss took us to our apogee, and well into the beginning of our descent.

**END**

 

**Author's Note:**

> So . . . Lucifer in love, huh? Is this worth writing more about? Like backstory, previous events, future events, and such? Might turn this into a novel or novella. Would really love some comments on what you liked and/or what needs improving (probably everything).
> 
> If you're of a mind, [follow me on Tumblr](https://beetle-ships-it-all.tumblr.com/)!


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